


Transient

by wyse_ink



Category: Psycho-Pass
Genre: Background Angst, Complicated Relationships, Coping, F/M, Sexual Content, Stress Relief, tag options are limited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-20
Updated: 2016-01-20
Packaged: 2018-05-15 05:02:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5772277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wyse_ink/pseuds/wyse_ink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They’d both known it was foolish then, reckless by even his standards. Yet it was something that she felt had been necessary, and once again, she needed him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Transient

     It’d been a tough few weeks and the stress was weighing on her. She stood and draped her jacket over her arm, her body aching from the long hours of being confined to her desk. The most recent case was proving particularly tough to crack, and as the days passed, she’d begun to feel that Division 1 wasn’t getting any closer to a solution. There were still no leads to the terrorist incident that had happened a year ago, and she was sure that the recent uprisings were tied to it. Somebody was making the move against Sibyl, and somehow, it was all connected to what she’d seen on Shamballa.  
     She glanced over at the empty ashtray by her desk. A lone cigarette still flickered weakly in it, one that she’d forgotten she’d even lit. It’d been hours since her shift ended, and despite the continuous, unofficial overtime she’d been working the past few weeks, she wasn’t any closer to a single clue. With a sigh, she turned and left the office.

 

     The moment she reached her apartment, she knew she wasn’t alone. She turned on the light and found him lying on the sofa, squinting slightly as his eyes adjusted to the sudden light. “There’s nothing I can do for you if you get caught by a scanner,” she told him evenly, setting her purse on the counter. “You’re supposed to remain at the safe house when you’re not helping with the case.” He sat up and nodded at a file on the coffee table before him.  
     “Consider it overtime.”  
     She crossed the room and picked up the file. She knew she was too tired to make sense of it now, but she opened it anyway, taking in his messy report and the photo he’d attached.  
     “It’s not much, but I think he’s our first lead. He’s a former member of SEAUn, but recently returned to Japan after being medically discharged.”  
     She frowned. “Isn’t that unusual?”  
     He nodded, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. “Specifically, it was a mental health concern. The official report claimed he was no longer fit for duty, but even if the military did have a sudden bout of kindness, there’s no record of him being committed to therapy or an isolation unit.”  
     Akane nodded, her mind racing as she read his notes. She glanced at him as he flicked his lighter, letting the small flame bring the cigarette to life. Something in his demeanor her seemed off, but she’d expected as much. She sighed, and when she spoke, her tone was soft. “Does it bother you?”  
     He exhaled, a cloud of smoke forming in front of him. When he met her gaze, she knew he’d understood. How could it not bother him, she thought, that he’d found himself once again on Sibyl’s leash? This time, the leash it held was pulled so tight that even thinking about making a wrong move could kill him. Because the case was so high risk--and the system desperate--he’d been re-admitted into Japan to infiltrate the terror group if needed. It'd been a risk that she couldn't seem to find the logic in, but it was a reality she'd had no say in. In return, the system had promised his freedom. Akane knew better. She knew he’d thought he was free after Shamballa, but they’d tightened the noose and dragged him back.  
     It wasn’t that she felt sorry for him. Every choice he’d made, he’d made on his own accord. That didn’t mean she didn’t hate it. She hated that he was still so much the same on the surface, but only a shell of the man she’d known before. She hated that the fire she’d seen in his eyes in the days before he’d left had burned out and been replaced with unfeeling ice.  
     She wondered if hers looked the same to him.  
     Akane set the file down and made her way to the sofa, smoothing her skirt underneath her as she sat down where the file had been. “Look at me.” His eyes found their way back to hers, and as they took her image in, suddenly looked more familiar. There was still a light there, she noticed, but only sometimes. Only when something in the case caught his interest. Only when they acknowledged the secrets that they shared. She leaned in closer and gently took the cigarette from his hand, setting it in the ashtray she kept nearby. He watched her silently, as if he were analyzing her every move.  
     “You look different,” he said finally. She smiled sadly at his confirmation of what she already knew. She stood again and stepped across the small space between them, placing her hands on his shoulders and settling her weight over him. He rested his forehead against hers, the gesture sending a chill down her spine.  
     It was the best and worst secret they shared, the one thing that could be completely and undeniably theirs. A secret they’d created the night that chaos followed, so far from the world either one of them really knew. They’d both known it was foolish then, reckless by even his standards. Yet it was something that she felt had been necessary, and once again, she needed him.  
     Her kiss was gentle, coaxing him toward a response; anything that could make him feel like hers again. His hands moved toward her hips, so slowly that she wondered if he was hesitating. Closing her arms around him, she deepened the kiss, clinging to the feeling of being against him and remembering his taste. And she was finding that as his lips moved against hers, it was easy. Despite how long it’d been since they’d indulged in something like this, she remembered everything. Remembered all that was being reaffirmed now: his taste, his scent, the way he lightly squeezed her hips as he kissed her more vigorously. She rolled her hips against him and let her fingers tangle in his hair.  
     It felt different this time, she thought, taking in the burning sensation from his fingertips as they brushed her skin, making their way to the zipper of her skirt. They were in a familiar place. For once, he wasn’t running, and this time she wasn’t hiding. She felt the fabric loosening around her waist as she was freed from its confines, and quickly stood to shed it completely. He watched her, eyes burning with the intensity she’d so badly missed. Before she could return to him, he’d stood and pulled her against him, kissing her more hungrily than he had before. She fumbled with his tie and the buttons on his shirt. His hands on her again before she’d managed to complete either task, peeling her blouse from her burning skin and sliding his fingers underneath the back of her bra. She shivered as she felt it unhook, the fabric giving way to the air that felt cooler than she remembered. Shrugging it from her shoulders she pressed against him harder, struck by how coarse the fabric of his shirt felt against her skin. He’d worn a different one before, one made of a much lighter stuff that given to his every move and to her will when she’d removed it. She felt a sense of relief as she finally loosened the last button and relieved him of the stifling thing.  
     His skin was hot against hers as he lifted her, pulling her more tightly against him briefly before depositing her on the couch. He followed with conviction, pressing his weight against her and his lips against her neck. She welcomed both, inhaling sharply as she felt his teeth against her skin; so lightly, tempting her for more. It was too much.  
     She rolled her hips against him again, her body pleading for him to stop his torture. His hands found her hips and forced them down, as if to tell her he had every intention of continuing his twisted new game. As he held them, his thumbs played at the elastic band at her panties, letting it softly snap once, twice against her skin. A soft moan escaped her lips as her body protested its newfound binds, and for a bit, she let him have his way. He was here with her, so close that she didn’t have to reach. She breathed him in, his scent of cologne and smoke flooding through every fiber of her, holding her captive in his presence and his calloused hands. It was as though his predatory nature had taken over him again, and he wished to slowly kill his prey. His hands traveled up her body, sliding against the glisten she’d begun to build up and underneath her until they reached the small of her back. He used his newfound leverage to pull her roughly against him again, his breath short and hot on her neck as he did so. Her back arched in response to the sudden shift, and she turned her head, letting her lips press against the curve of his neck. Her arms snaked more tightly around him and she dug her fingernails into his skin, her frustration growing ever stronger the longer he delayed.  
     She nipped at the muscular curve between his neck and shoulder. He was so stubborn, she thought as he descended on her lips again. Even this was something of a fight to him.  
     And it was a fight, she realized, reaching for his belt. Their own private test of wills to see who could drive the other maddest before the other finally cracked. As his hands caught her wrists, she knew she was wearing him down.  
She jerked her arms back toward her, causing him to lurch forward and catch himself above her. Before he could react, she’d already loosened his belt. He stopped her again before the rest, completing the task himself and descending upon her again. His fingers looped through around the elastic again and he pulled, relieving her of the last barrier between them.   
     How many times had the memory of him crept into her mind at night since then? He was a ghost, one that faded as soon as her eyes opened and her day started anew. She thought of all the times she’d been jolted awake by the memory of a blast in the distance, and every moment they’d thought they had that had ended too soon. In every memory, he’d fade away a little more, and for too long she’d feared he would disappear completely.  
     She clenched her teeth as he worked, committing herself to silence. Even now, he was still a ghost, the reality that he could disappear again at any moment looming in the back of her mind. But right now he was hers, and she would savor every moment.  
     He read her like a book. The more the effect seemed to build within her the better he responded, with a roughness she welcomed with earnest. Her body craved him like a drug, one that even the memory of could get her high and one that currently fueled her energy. The effort was exhausting her, but he was relentless, his breath reduced to short, heated pants against her dampened skin as he worked more vigorously. She bit her lip to keep herself from crying out, wondering how much more she could take. When finally it was too much for them both, they collapsed into each other, reduced to a tangle of skin and heat. Her chest rose and fell against his, and she stroked the back of his neck with a trembling hand.  
     More than anything, she wished that this too wouldn’t turn into a memory.

**Author's Note:**

> After re-reading this, I decided to go ahead and bump the rating up to E as a precaution. Tumblr link posted here: http://psychosibyl.tumblr.com/post/137713761472/transient-wyseink-psycho-pass-archive-of-our
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Disclaimer and Notice: I do not own Psycho-Pass or its characters. All fan fiction works are non-profit and written and strictly for entertainment and/or character study purposes.
> 
> Do not copy, re-post, or plagiarize any portion of this work.


End file.
